How authentic is lulus?
Well lib, imagine, if you will, that you are in a small village on the Khorat Plateau, seated on the floor atop an ornate carpet passed down from the ancient kingdom of Sukhothai. The year is 1743. In front of you is a ceramic bowl overflowing with phat thai kung. As you jab the fingers of your right hand (the right hand is imortant) into the phat thai kung and bring a sample of it up and into your mouth, you are struck by the complex menagerie of 4, 5 or sometimes 6 distinct flavor profiles, each note unique and yet the chord is harmonious. You're chewing. You raise your head. Suddenly, you're contemplating the sun's slow descent into the verdant river basin in the distance, way way over
there. Your host mutters some words in the demotic language of the hill tribes. You smile, out of respect, and return to your ritual meal. Over there, the water winks and dances as the last of the sun's rays skip across the river's surface. The meal is now ended, and you position yourself near the dusty khong wong lek to regale your hosts with the folk songs from your youth.
That's the best way I can explain Lulu's. You probably wouldn't like it.
